Eheyeh
by Hans the bold
Summary: With some powerful help, Hans the bold slashes his way toward a redemption of Lucy Camden. Slash means slash, and hence the R rating.
1. 1:27

The story that follows is an interpretation of the character of Lucy Camden, whose behavior in recent seasons has been baffling to me. In the episode "I love Lucy", Lucy and Roxanne share a short dance that I thought was very romantic, and I wanted to see if this could be expanded upon in an interesting and dramatic way that explained Lucy's recent behavior on the show. As always, the characters here are not mine; they are the property of the WB and other Hollywood big shots. The story itself, however, is (c) 2003 by Hans the bold. All Biblical quotes have been checked against the Masoretic Hebrew text of the Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia. For those who don't know Hebrew, translations for all Hebrew words and passages exist in the text of the story and should be easy to recognize.  
  
Dedications are too numerous to list here, but include the posters on the 7th Heaven boards at Television Without Pity, whose friendship is really the ultimate inspiration for my fanfiction, and those authors here at fanfiction.net who share their visions of the Camdens with us, bringing them to life in so many fine and interesting ways.  
  
A final note: This story discusses sexuality, and might well qualify as slash. It also contains theological speculation that some may not agree with. If such things are likely to bother you, I'd turn back now.  
  
ONE: 1:27  
* * *  
  
Most people think it started with the dance. That isn't true.  
  
It's hard to say when it did start, actually. I don't think anyone actually can. You don't remember when you first started to notice people that way, when they stop being just people and start being men and women.  
  
Male and female.  
  
"Male and female he created them."  
  
That's what it says, there in Genesis. Male and female. Created at once, with one word from God.  
  
Male and female.  
  
What does that mean?  
  
I think about that a lot. When I'm lying in bed, my husband beside me, I think about it. I think about his maleness, about what that means, about how I wanted it for so long, about how I was so afraid he would never ask me to be his wife.  
  
People thought I was insane about that. A jealous, nasty harpy. I know. I heard them.  
  
But they don't understand, those people. They don't understand what it was like to be me, in those days.  
  
Except for her. I think she did.  
  
But it didn't start with the dance.  
  
#  
  
In all my life there has never been anything more important to me than God. This was probably because of my family, my father a Minister, my mother committing herself to the household, trying to be a perfect rendition of Proverbs 31. I was raised singing gospel, praying at each meal and every Sunday, turning myself over to God. I was raised to think of others before myself, always, as Christ did. These weren't conscious things, after a while. They just became a part of me.  
  
I think sometimes that they are more a part of me more than any of the others, more than Matt or Mary or Simon, more than Ruthie or the twins. Sometimes it's like I can almost hear God, like I can feel his presence close by, watching me.  
  
I love that feeling. I want to share it.  
  
Male and female he created them.  
  
Female he created me. He. Created. Me.  
  
Eheyeh asher eheyeh.  
  
It's said that all things exist on a spectrum. We all fall somewhere; who we are, what we are. Things are never simple. I try to remember that, as I prepare to be a Minister. I try to remember that not everything is clear-cut, that not everything is black and white. I try to remember who I am, what I am, when I listen to others.  
  
Maybe this will make me a better Minister.  
  
Maybe it makes me a hypocrite.  
  
Because I don't preach that. There are rules to my faith, rules I must follow if I am to be permitted to speak about God, and the first among these is that the Bible is an absolute. God is an absolute. There is absolute right and there is absolute wrong, and the Bible tells us what these are. Everything is black and white, and what I am is sin.  
  
Sin.  
  
Male and female he created them.  
  
Created me.  
  
Who am I to question God with what I do, with what I feel?  
  
Most people think it started with the dance, but that isn't true.  
  
It started when God created me female.  
  
#  
  
We learned young, my brothers and sisters and I, that girls were different than boys. Boys were to work, to earn their way, to establish themselves. They were the trustworthy ones, the ones descended not from the Eve who had brought on the fall but from Adam, who she had brought down. They bore no taint of original sin but only the taint of vulnerability to the woman. And so they were raised to be strong, to know the dangers of the female and to avoid and control it. Thus it was with Matt, with Simon.  
  
For Mary and I, and even Ruthie now, the taint was very real. We brought danger into our household, danger that must be watched, controlled, held in with rules. Though it was never said, the message was always there: We were unclean.  
  
Female.  
  
He created us.  
  
I was, you know, "boy crazy". I loved boys, thought about boys, talked about boys, dated boys, kissed boys. Once my friend Keisha and I were in a theater with boys, and we were kissing the boys and were discovered doing so. I was punished. Once I and other friends went to the mall and tarted ourselves up in short skirts and makeup and flirted with a security guard, and were discovered. I was punished. Once I was going to offer myself for sex with my older boyfriend, and was discovered, and yes, I was punished.  
  
Boy crazy. She can't be trusted.  
  
She burns with lust for them.  
  
Danger.  
  
#  
  
They never knew.  
  
Not even Ruthie, who prided herself on knowing everything, ever even suspected. In all her excursions through my dresser drawers, through my closet, through my bed and under my mattress and even my journal, she never, ever, came close to the truth. She in fact was my greatest defense against discovery, and it was for her that I left all the clues, the magazines and pictures and writings. I love boys, I want boys. Isn't he a hunk? Isn't he cute?  
  
She found my clues and she swallowed them up and of course she told all, and all of the rest of them believed her.  
  
Lucy is just boy crazy.  
  
What she did not find was the truth. Could she follow my eyes as I looked at Sheila and not at Mark? Could she know that I wanted to be a cheerleader not to cheer the football team but to be with those who did? Despite what she may think, my little sister could never read my mind, and neither could the others.  
  
Neither could I, for many of those years. 


	2. 2:17

TWO: 2:17  
* * *  
  
I went to my father once, when I was still just a girl, and I asked him what a "queer" was. I'd heard it in school, when a group of boys were taunting another boy and I had been too shy to intervene.  
  
"Hey, queer! What'cha doin', faggot?"  
  
He had cried, the boy had, big, angry tears of humiliation, and I had wondered what in all the world could hurt someone so. Father and God were one and the same in those days, and so it was to him that I had turned.  
  
"What's a queer, Dad? What's a faggot?"  
  
He looked at me strangely, asked me where I'd heard such language. When I told him he sighed and nodded sadly.  
  
"Those aren't very nice words, Lucy. I don't want you to ever use them. Do you understand?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
"But what are they?" I asked again.  
  
He reached over, laid his hand on his Bible, looked back at me.  
  
"They are very sad people," he said. "They are sick; something is wrong with them. Do you remember the story of Adam and Eve? How God created a companion for Adam?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then you know that Eve wasn't just another Adam. She was made to compliment him in a very special way, a way that is right in the eyes of God. What you heard that boy being called is a type of person who rejects that special connection that Adam had with Eve, and that men have with women when they get married. They reject God, and that makes a lot of people upset."  
  
"So he's bad?"  
  
My father shook his head. "The other boys may just be bullying him. Even if it is true, it isn't him who is bad, but the dirty things he does. Always remember, Lucy, that you have to love the sinner even when you hate the sin. With these people you have to do everything you can to make them be normal, so they can be saved by God."  
  
These people. From then on, I always thought of the two groups: normal people, and these people.  
  
Who were broken.  
  
#  
  
Broken.  
  
Did God create me broken?  
  
Because only a few years later I started to change, to become more than a girl, and I started feeling things that I didn't understand. Mom tried to talk to me about them, about what it meant to be a woman, but I don't really think she knew it herself. What I did learn from her was that normal girls felt things, attractions, toward boys, and that good girls never, ever, let the boys know this. But normal girls did feel these things. They did. It was normal.  
  
I wanted to be normal, even if it meant being female and therefore dirty like Eve. I wanted to be saved by God.  
  
So I had to want boys. The more I wanted them the more normal I would be.  
  
I can't even remember all the names of all the boys I dated, all the boys I kissed. Anywhere I could, any time, I would date them and kiss them. Maybe if I kissed enough boys I would actually start to like it.  
  
Maybe I would be normal.  
  
But I wasn't. Every time I kissed a boy, I closed my eyes and the picture would come. She would be pretty, with long hair tumbling around her shoulders, and she would smile and she would be close to me and hold me and her lips would be so warm, so moist, so soft. And with this picture there would come other feelings too, feelings in my heart and below, warm, pleasant feelings, like a tingle down there. When my eyes were open and I saw the boy's face, these feelings were gone, like a wisp of smoke in the wind, replaced by nothing.  
  
Or almost nothing.  
  
#  
  
My sister Mary, you know, likes men. I can tell. She likes to kiss them and touch them and make love to them. And there was that time when she and I both were so down, because we weren't married, because we had no men. It was easy, in those days, just to follow along with Mary, because she really did want a man so badly, and it occurred to me then that this was really the answer to all my problems. I needed a husband, because with a husband there would be adult relations, would be real sex, and I would be his compliment, just as Eve complimented Adam. God made me, and he made me female, and that meant I complimented the male.  
  
I had to be normal. God was watching me. I was going to be a Minister, was going to spread the gospel of Christ. I knew by now that my thoughts were homosexual, and I knew that they were sin. I loved God then as I do now, and I just wanted to be what he had created, that good and right Lucy that Mom and Dad were so proud of.  
  
I had to be normal, because in all the world the one thing that most frightened me was that God might leave me.  
  
Go hates homosexuals. God hates fags and dykes. How many times did I hear that?  
  
But don't we love the sinner and hate the sin?  
  
Homosexuals are an affront to Christ and decency. Homosexuals spread AIDS. Homosexuals are unclean.  
  
Homosexuals are all, every one of them, going to go straight to hell.  
  
I had to be normal.  
  
Marriage would make me normal.  
  
#  
  
I tried.  
  
With Jeremy first, going all the way to New York, I tried. Marry me, Jeremy. Make me normal. Make me something that God can love.  
  
When I came home, my family asked me why I had left him. I did not delay with my answer because I didn't want to tell them; I delayed because I had to make the truth fit another lie.  
  
His family didn't like me. They smoked pot. It's not a Camden world out there.  
  
But the truth was that I could no longer stand to feel Jeremy's male hands on me.  
  
#  
  
I met Kevin at the airport.  
  
I could tell he wanted me right away. I was angry, at Mary, at the world, and something as simple as losing my makeup kit set me off. Everything in the world was wrong, most especially me. I kept thinking about women, about touching them, kissing them, doing more. Prurient thoughts about their bodies, so much like mine, rounded and soft. But Kevin listened patiently as I yelled, and then he asked me on a date. I'll never know quite why, but he did.  
  
And I said he was cute, for Mary's sake.  
  
My lies by then had become habitual.  
  
It was complicated after that. Kevin became my boyfriend and he really seemed to like me. But just a boyfriend was not enough; there had to be more. He had to be more. I had to put Jeremy behind me and get a husband, because that was the only way I was ever going to find my salvation. I could feel God slipping away, all the time, more and more. At night I would dream of God, high on a throne above me, looking down.  
  
"But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die."  
  
I prayed a lot. Prayed to God for help. Since I was studying to become a Minister no one took much heed at this. I dared not think of anything else, of anything but my need for a husband, a man who would save me from death and hell. What friends I had drifted away, what other interests I had grew idle. There must be nothing else, except getting Kevin to ask me to be his wife.  
  
I'll be a good wife, God. I'll be a good woman. Please don't abandon me.  
  
Kevin. Kevin was my only hope.  
  
And then one day, she came. 


	3. 3:4 and 5

THREE: 3:4-5  
* * *  
  
Roxanne.  
  
There at the door, asking for Kevin.  
  
Who is she? Who is this pretty blonde who asked for my Kevin? I have to know. Don't you see? I have to know!  
  
The rages started then.  
  
I didn't know why, not at first. The obvious reason was unthinkable. I hated her; I had to hate her. It was obvious she had eyes for Kevin, was obvious she was a slut, a sex kitten. They seduce men, draw them away from the women who actually love them, use their bodies to bring them down.  
  
Like Eve brought down Adam.  
  
Whore.  
  
Kevin found the whole thing funny. Men like that, being fought over. They like the power. I know now how much Kevin loves power. She's my partner, he said. I work with her. I want you two to get along.  
  
I fought. I hated her more and more each day. I had to, don't you see? I had to hate her. If she took Kevin from me the dark feelings inside, the sinful, dirty feelings I had, would all come up. They would overwhelm me, destroy me.  
  
How many times did I lie in the warm tub, or in my warm bed, and touch myself? I wanted to scream and die. Go away, Roxanne! Go away go away!  
  
Please, God, help me. I don't want to go to hell.  
  
I begged him to propose. I threatened him if he did not. I thought once or twice about proposing to him instead, but that wasn't right. I'd always been taught that it's not the woman's place to do that and I knew him well enough to know he would leave me if I did.  
  
He would take Roxanne and marry her instead.  
  
But he waited, hinting, promising me something special while still working with her. I know she came on to him, and I know he refused. But how long would he be able to resist her? Men are weak that way, and she was beautiful.  
  
Beautiful.  
  
Beautiful.  
  
I hated her. She began to date Chandler, the new Associate Minister. That didn't matter. I had to keep hating her, no matter what.  
  
Because I was afraid.  
  
Yes. Afraid. Because when I first saw her, standing there at the door asking for Kevin, it all began. Not a tingle but more, a burning. She would go to Kevin, would make love to Kevin. She would not only take him from me but she would tease me, would taunt me.  
  
She knew.  
  
#  
  
I don't know how, but she knew. Every time she looked at me it was clear. She knew my thoughts, my feelings. In a single glance she was able to tell more than Ruthie had been able to spy out in almost a decade. And more than knowing, my despair was fueled by the fact that she was so beautiful, that without wanting to I wanted her, wanted to touch her, to kiss her, to feel her naked body against my own.  
  
She threatened not only my chances with Kevin, she threatened to take me to hell herself.  
  
I prayed, but God did not answer me.  
  
I was alone with my hate, and no one but her really understood.  
  
#  
  
In time, Kevin asked me to marry him. It was a beautiful evening. The day had started out with a nightmare, with Roxanne taking Kevin away, with me being handed a bill at the restaurant that demanded my soul as payment, but it got better. Kevin had bought for me a beautiful black dress, and I wore this to the Hotel Ritz, where he got down on his knee and proposed. It was Valentine's Day and I felt so beautiful, and I kissed him and danced and there was this lovely, romantic jazz playing there. He had paid for it all; until then I had not known that his father had made millions as a corporate raider in the 1980's.  
  
I was saved. Thank you, God, I was saved. I would be a good wife, would make love to my husband, would bear his children and be his compliment. I did not need to hate Roxanne anymore, for the threat of her was gone.  
  
And then, she appeared.  
  
She had been with Chandler in the hotel restaurant, and they had talked of their future together. She loved him, and soon they would become engaged, she said. But it was my evening now, and she had not wanted to spoil it for me, and so they had decided to wait. I was overcome with gratitude and relief.  
  
And then we danced.  
  
#  
  
She was so beautiful, in a lovely red dress, her hair light and soft and bouncing a bit with the motion as we each tried to let the other lead. Her hands were warm in mine, her body soft as I felt her slender waist beneath my hand, her movements graceful as she pirouetted slowly. It was only for a moment that we were together, but it was so peaceful, so calm, that I wanted to draw her close, to hold her, to kiss her, to touch her. And I felt then, deep deep deep inside, that hot tingle, that warm, trembling excitement, that all the boys and men I had ever kissed had never been able to bring forth. Words, then, came silently to my mind, old words long remembered.  
  
"But the serpent said to the woman, 'You shall not die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.'"  
  
As Kevin and Chandler broke in, Roxanne's eyes caught mine.  
  
And as she knew me, so too I knew her. 


	4. 3:6

FOUR: 3:6  
* * *  
  
Male and female he created them.  
  
Female he created us.  
  
Kevin and I were married after the usual hijinks, and for two weeks we toured Europe on our honeymoon, spending time at his home on the Riviera, where we sipped champagne and lay in each other's arms until noon. He was patient with me, and gentle and forgiving of my clumsiness and uncertainty, and I was attentive to him just as he was with me. But there was no pleasure in his embrace; only when I closed my eyes and thought of Roxanne did such pleasure come. Only when I imagined it was her there beside me, her soft, gentle curves, her attentive hands against my flesh, could I enjoy the intimate embrace of my new husband.  
  
But I was good now, wasn't I? I had fulfilled all that God had demanded of me. I had waited till marriage and had given myself only to my husband.  
  
I should be happy. I should feel God there, so close, the way I had when I was young, when my life was bright and filled with joy. Surely, beneath the high arches of Notre Dame, the dome of St. Peter's, of St. Paul's, God should walk beside me. Surely, as I prayed to him now, he would answer, would grant me the mercy of stilling my raging heart, the simple kindness of bringing me pleasure in the embrace of the husband his church decreed was to alone share my bed.  
  
But God was not there. Instead I thought only of Roxanne.  
  
#  
  
She married Chandler, shortly after our return, and asked me to be a bridesmaid. He was appointed pastor of a nearby congregation, and Kevin and I moved into a large home on the outskirts of Glenoak, where he continued his hobby of police work while managing his family's fortune and I continued my studies. I rarely saw her after her wedding; she continued to work as a police officer and that Christmas we exchanged cards.  
  
Slipped into the envelope of theirs was a small note written by her hand.  
  
"Remember the dance?"  
  
My hand trembled. I made sure that Kevin never saw this.  
  
Kevin didn't see a lot of things.  
  
Did God?  
  
#  
  
I wondered this now, as I drew closer to my degree, as the reality that soon I was to begin my ministry loomed. I prayed all the time, prayed to understand the deep need that was never answered, prayed to understand why God would make me the way I was. I read my Bible again and again, but always the words were the same, hollow, giving no answer. And always the simple reality remained.  
  
I have created you, Lucy, as you are. And as you are I have denied you the capacity to love as I have commanded you to love.  
  
I wondered if Kevin knew that in his arms I felt like I was nothing. I wondered if he would see that my passion for him was a lie.  
  
I wondered about Roxanne, in the arms of Chandler.  
  
And in time, I had to act. The words came quickly to me.  
  
"So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate."  
  
#  
  
The phone rang once, twice, a third time. I tensed as it picked up.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
Not him, not Chandler. Thank God.  
  
"Roxanne?"  
  
The voice warmed, I think. Maybe.  
  
"Lucy? Is that you?"  
  
"Yeah. How are you?"  
  
A chuckle. "Crazy. Chandler's got all these church things going on, and I'm supposed to help. Minister's wife stuff. You know how it is. And then there's trying to be a cop on top of it. How've you been?"  
  
"Almost finished with my degree. I guess then they start sending me out to congregations."  
  
"Wow. Congratulations."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
It was quiet then. My mouth was dry, and I felt my thighs rub together a bit. It was warm between them. Then I spoke.  
  
"Roxanne, remember Valentine's Day?"  
  
Another pause.  
  
"How could I forget? We were sure nuts that night, weren't we?"  
  
"Me more than you. I've always felt bad about how I treated you. I said some pretty awful things."  
  
"It all worked out. We got past it."  
  
"I still feel bad. Maybe I could meet you for lunch one of these days? My treat. I figure I owe you."  
  
She chuckled. "Sure. We could meet at the Hotel Ritz in Glenoak. I haven't been there since ...."  
  
"That sounds good," I told her.  
  
She paused again now. "Lucy, can I ask you a favor?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"That black number, the one you wore ... could you wear it?"  
  
I took in a deep breath, ran my dry tongue over the roof of my mouth.  
  
"If you wear the red," I told her. 


	5. 3:22 and 23

FIVE: 3:22-23  
* * *  
  
Kevin was out of town; business trip to Japan. I'd seen him off at Glenoak International myself, kissed him warmly and watched him step to security. Now I sat before the mirror in our large bedroom, carefully dressing and attending to my makeup, trying to keep my hands from shaking as I did.  
  
This wasn't easy.  
  
Just lunch, I told myself. That's all it needs to be.  
  
Liar.  
  
I rose, inspected myself in the mirror. As I picked up my purse my gaze fell on my Bible, sitting on the nightstand by the bed.  
  
It's time, God, I thought. I throw myself on your mercy. I love you and I love your son, but I cannot deny any longer what you have made of me. I have tried, again and again, and you have been silent in my need. What do you want of me? Am I to suffer so that you and my father and those who hate what I am may feel a false contentment? Or in your silence, do you mean I should do this thing, that I should be honest with what I am, by your hand?  
  
Nothing.  
  
I stepped from the room, out to the garage, backed my car out and drove into town.  
  
#  
  
She was waiting for me when I arrived.  
  
The red dress still fit her well, her figure slender, curved at the hips and bust. She had kept her hair long, too, with just that bit of bounce. She smiled and rose as I stepped to the table.  
  
"Hi, Lucy."  
  
I smiled back.  
  
"Hi."  
  
I wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked as we each sat. The waiter appeared with our menus.  
  
"Anything you want," I told her. "It's on me."  
  
She looked at me over the menu.  
  
"I'm going to take you up on that, you know," she said.  
  
We passed the meal with idle conversation, catching up. It's easy to fall behind with someone when you've been busy. She laughed a few times, her voice soft and melodic even then. And I laughed too, laughed for the first time in ages, an easy, comfortable laugh. She looked at me as I quieted.  
  
"You're very pretty when you laugh, Lucy. You should laugh more often."  
  
I regarded her.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
She reclined then, watched me back, holding her half-empty glass of wine in her hand.  
  
"Kevin?" she asked softly.  
  
"In Tokyo by now. Chandler?"  
  
"Church organizational meeting for two days. In San Francisco."  
  
I nodded. She nodded. I paid the bill and we rose.  
  
As we got close to my car she reached over and took my hand.  
  
#  
  
I chose my house. A room in the hotel would have attracted attention, but no one would question two friends, one a future Minister and the other a Minister's wife, getting together for an afternoon at home. Roxanne didn't protest, didn't say anything as I pulled into the garage and shut off the motor, letting the door close behind us. Instead she simply followed me inside, through the large kitchen, the large dining room, and upstairs. In the bedroom, I turned and faced her.  
  
"I'd really love to dance," she said softly.  
  
I nodded, took a moment to put on some music.  
  
Jazz. She knew the tune, smiled.  
  
Our hands met, fingers weaving about each other. Her hand went to my waist, drew me close. I gasped softly as I felt her bodice against my own, felt a shiver run down my spine. We moved, turned, our heels silent against the carpeted floor, and as one song faded into another she drew me to her again, her face near mine, and I could feel the rounded shape of her breasts against mine.  
  
"You knew," I whispered. "You always knew."  
  
"So did you," she answered softly.  
  
I looked into her eyes, so close, the combined scents of our perfume intoxicating.  
  
"Yes," I said. It was true. Somehow.  
  
She moved to me, her lips touching mine, and I responded. Hers were soft, moist, her tongue tender, warm. And her hand was moving, over my back and down, gentle, loving. My body, so cold and so dead and so afraid for so long, seemed to suddenly come alive, arching against her.  
  
I moaned at the feelings.  
  
And the bed met us as we descended.  
  
#  
  
In time, how much time I do not know, we lay together there. She was sleeping, her body warm against me, and my fingers traced an idle pattern across the bare skin of her shoulder. The music had ended, and now it was silent, the pillow soft beneath my head, comfortable.  
  
When had I last felt such comfort?  
  
I didn't know. I didn't know I could anymore.  
  
Roxanne stirred a bit, snuggled closer. I kept my embrace and she did not waken.  
  
She was beautiful there, her long hair wild around her. My Roxanne. Gently I leaned to her, kissed her forehead. As I leaned back my gaze passed the nightstand.  
  
I looked at the Bible there for a long time.  
  
Eheyeh asher eheyeh.  
  
I am that which I am.  
  
I feel you, God. I feel you close. I hear your words now, and I understand.  
  
"Then the Lord God said, 'Behold, the man has become like one of us, knowing good and evil; and now, what if he puts forth his hand and takes also from the tree of life, and eats, and lives forever?' So the Lord God sent him forth from the garden of Eden, to till the soil from which he was taken."  
  
We did not die when we ate of the fruit; we learned. And it was not sin that made you send us forth from Eden, God; it was wisdom. Your wisdom. You saw that Eve, in her disobedience, had grown as great as you, and that she had brought Adam with her. You saw that there was no longer a place for them in paradise because they were above it now, just as you are. And in your wisdom you saw that they and all their children must make their own ways in the world, must till the soil not only of the earth but of the soul, each seeking themselves, seeking the truth that is your name.  
  
Eheyeh. I am.  
  
THE END 


End file.
